Black Tuesdays
by tromana
Summary: The team are walking on eggshells. Lisbon has no idea why, so is determined to find out. Jane/Lisbon. For lil smiles.


**Title:** Black Tuesdays  
**Author: **tromana  
**Rating: **T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon, Team  
**Summary: **The team are walking on eggshells. Lisbon has no idea why, so is determined to find out.  
**Disclaimer:** Still not mine. You should be grateful for that.  
**Spoilers: **Ep 1.03 - Red Tide  
**Notes: **Written for lil smiles' birthday. Also a response to the jello-forever cliché busting thread. The fic kind of ran away with me at the end. Oops.

**Black Tuesdays**

They called them Black Tuesdays.

More often than not, it wasn't actually a Tuesday. The first one had been though, and the name just sort of stuck. Cho noted once that the SCU had more Black Tuesdays than the rest of the CBI put together, but that was mainly due to the presence of both Jane and Lisbon in the unit. Whilst they were both good - very good - at their jobs, they both had (almost literally) train wrecks of pasts and that was what dragged their average way up.

The team never thought to warn Van Pelt about anything, and she thought she was doing pretty well at picking things up on the job. Whilst in the kitchenette, fixing herself a coffee, she overheard Cho whisper to Rigsby 'it's a Black Tuesday tomorrow and it's your turn to warn Jane.' That confused her; for starters, it was actually Thursday tomorrow, and as far as she knew, a perfectly nice one at that.

She returned to her desk, frowning. Someone had better tell her what the hell was going on in this occasion. Van Pelt hated feeling so wrong-footed in the unit, and didn't want to make any terrible mistakes (again). As Rigsby conveyed the news to Jane, he nodded in sombre agreement. It was strange for Jane to take something so seriously - what the hell was going on? Jane barely listened to Lisbon, never mind anyone else. She was beginning to think that this was another one of those things the others just expected her to know. Kind of like the fact you never, ever make Jane tea, always having plenty of food when you are doing a stakeout with Rigsby and making sure you organised your paperwork the way that Lisbon approved of.

Despite the fact that the date hadn't rolled over yet, something that appeared to be becoming more and more ominous by the minute, the tension in the office had become palpable. Eventually, she took it upon herself to corner Rigsby. She wasn't going to get any answers any other way, and he was the most likely to open up. Besides, she was fairly certain this was a Rigsby and Cho thing; something that Jane and Lisbon only vaguely knew about.

"Alright, what is a 'Black Tuesday' then?"

Rigsby spun around and straightened, yoghurt falling to his feet. He relaxed immediately; for some reason he thought Van Pelt might have been Lisbon, about to berate him for having his head in the fridge, again. He was beginning to get paranoid, obviously. Van Pelt had a furrowed brow, so once he'd shut the fridge door, he ushered her away to somewhere more private. To only talk, of course, though he wished it could be for something more, naturally. Relationships within the unit weren't just frowned upon, but forbidden.

"Oh. It's your first one isn't it?"

"Yes," Van Pelt replied. "Please, just explain."

"It's just a, ah, nickname Cho and I came up for _those _days."

"_Those_ days?" Van Pelt echoed.

"You know, when they're having a bad day. When something happened to…"

He jerked his head towards Lisbon's office, where she and Jane were currently having a very vocal argument. Sometimes, he wondered if their spats were all show, but quickly dismissed the thought from his mind. As quickly as he could, he explained the situation to Grace and the particular significance of the next day. Van Pelt's eyes widened in sorrow; to think she had only been questioning her boss about that very day a couple of weeks ago. No wonder Lisbon had been so snappish. Tomorrow was definitely going to be a day for walking on eggshells.

***

"Thanks, Jane."

He quietly placed the cup of coffee on her desk and disappeared without a word. Lisbon frowned; it was unlike Jane to be so damn quiet. Why hadn't he commented on the fact she'd changed her soap this morning, started mocking her for chewing on the end of her pen, just done… something. Something more than placing a cup of coffee on her desk and leaving, at any rate.

In fact, the whole team had been getting on with their work in silence. Just flashing her the odd sympathetic, of all things, smile in her direction. Something was up. Who were these people and what had they done with her team? Yes, they all worked well (excepting Jane, of course), but there was usually a general hubbub of noise. Van Pelt reprimanding Jane for something, Cho making some witty comment over something stupid that Rigsby had done. And usually, it all drifted reassuringly into her office. It was familiar, it was nice. This stubborn silence, however, was not.

If they continued like this beyond lunch, being too eager to please, the over-politeness… just acting so damn odd, she was going to have to do something about it. It was days like this when she really wished they had a case to focus on. Not that they weren't busy, catching up with paperwork, looking for fresh leads in cold cases and all that. She just wanted something to new focus on, some good, hard work… something to just make them speak, for pity's sake.

Lunchtime was a fraught affair. Cho ordered them pizza, whilst ensuring that he had brought a salad for Lisbon. There was no reason for them to do it, just because. They ate in virtual silence; Rigsby opened his mouth on occasion to speak, with Cho silencing him with a steely glare that Lisbon would have been proud of. Only Jane appeared comfortable with the situation, even if he was still being a little too quiet.

"So," Lisbon started. If she had a knife, she'd have been able to cut through the atmosphere. "We have no case. Anyone up for a few drinks tonight?"

The others glanced at one another, seemingly unsure on what to say. Jane grinned and answered for them.

"Yes, Lisbon, we'd love to. Wouldn't we?"

They nodded in agreement, mumbling incoherently. Van Pelt, Cho and Rigsby didn't seem entirely thrilled at the idea of spending more time with each other. With her. Lisbon's mouth twitched slightly as she cleared away the rubbish before returning to her office. She would get it out of them, one way or another. Whilst it wasn't exactly a normal, nor ethical way to carry out enquiries, she had no qualms about using alcohol to try and get that admission from one of her team on this occasion.

***

They took to their usual haunt. It was a quiet bar, the owner and staff gave them privacy and never questioned what they discussed under hushed breaths (though, they tried to keep work away there, it was often of a confidential nature, after all). And more importantly, they enjoyed the ambiance - it was soothing, relaxing. The perfect place to wind down after a hard day at the CBI headquarters, or out in the field.

"What do you want, Lisbon?"

"A lemonade, please." She pulled up a barstool and sat next to Jane, who had quirked an eyebrow at her. "Someone has to be designated driver."

That same someone also had to find out why her work colleagues were acting so damn weird, but there was no need to disclose that information. The young woman served their drinks and Lisbon and Jane soon joined the others on 'their' table. Rigsby was sitting opposite Van Pelt, just watching her, whilst Cho shuffled uncomfortably. The drinks were placed down rather roughly, spilling their contents over the rims.

Rigsby, Van Pelt and Jane were quite happily drinking whatever was placed in front of them. The three of them were becoming more and more inebriated, with Lisbon and Cho watching their every move. None of them, however, were giving any clues as to why they had been behaving oddly. Instead, Rigsby was sidling closer to Van Pelt and Jane had decided to stare at Lisbon with a doe-eyed expression.

Lisbon sighed. She was getting nowhere. It was Cho, however, who broke the silence.

"I think we should get them home," he muttered to her, conspiringly.

"I think you're right."

"Do you know where Jane lives?"

She nodded. She'd been to the apartment he rented in Sacramento once, when his Citroen had broken down and he needed a lift to work. As far as she knew, it was just a place to keep his belongings when the CBI were sick and tired of him using that couch, and when he was too far away from Malibu to punish himself with staying there. Lisbon didn't question it; she and her brothers still refused to sell their parents' house for comparable reasons, though, that was lying empty and neglected back east.

Lisbon watched as Cho coerced Van Pelt and Rigsby into leaving. She smiled at Jane, who had proceeded to sulk due to the evening being brought to grinding halt so suddenly. He was, however, rather pleased that it was Lisbon he'd been left with rather than Cho, so was more willing to be amiable than he could be.

"Jane?"

"Yes, Lisbon?" His voice was slurred.

"I think we should go home now.""But things were jus' getting fun."

Since her father's death, she has had to deal with countless more drunks. People who knew her well enough always assumed it would upset her, but it didn't. The eldest of her brothers had fallen into drinking soon after her Dad's died, essentially proving to her that the cycle would probably never be broken. There was always wishful thinking, though. He was currently on yet another stint in rehab, which she sincerely hoped would work, though she had little to no confidence in it. As far as Lisbon was concerned, dealing with people being drunk and disorderly was just a normal part of her life. What bothered her was seeing young children trapped in a similar childhood to hers, with no obvious means of escape.

"Come on, you. You have work in the morning."

"Can I sleep on your couch?" Jane looked incredibly hopeful.

"We'll see."

It took her a good fifteen minutes to get him buckled into the SUV, during which he got distracted several times, proclaimed his undying love for Lisbon twice and wished her a Merry Christmas (despite the fact it was mid-July) once. At least he wasn't at the stage where he was likely to throw up, though. Lisbon didn't much fancy having to clear sick out of the car.

The declarations of love had caught her off guard. He couldn't really mean that, could he? Most people's inhibitions loosened with alcohol - she only had to look at the physical closeness between Rigsby and Van Pelt as proof of that. They never would have dared do that otherwise, especially not in front of their boss. She shook her head and remained focussed on the road. Jane was still talking at her, his drunken drivel almost becoming soothing in a way. She couldn't kid herself, there had been times she'd thought about it, times when she'd almost convinced herself the flirting could mean more. Sanity always came clawing back, however. There was absolutely no way Jane would think about her in such a way. He was the one project she'd never be able to fix, the sooner she accepted that, the better.

"Aw, Lisbon," Jane moaned. "You said I could stay at your's."

"I think it's best you stay here," she replied through gritted teeth.

"Not getting out."

"Will you get out if we go to mine?" she replied, slightly regretting giving in so easily. She just didn't have the energy to argue anymore, and knowing her alarm was already set for 5am didn't make things any easier.

"Yup." He beamed brightly at her.

Lisbon sighed and complied, knowing that she would probably regret it later. Jane continued to stare out of the window, the drive beginning to slowly but surely sober him up. He didn't want to leave Lisbon alone, not tonight. He knew all too well that nights alone were not what you wanted when anniversaries of nightmarish occasions passed. What had surprised him, however, was that she hadn't wanted to drink after suggesting to go to the bar. There was something more, though. There always was when he was around her. Once they reached her home, they both slipped out of the car without a word and walked up a flight of stairs to her apartment. She slipped her key in the lock, and he placed a hand on top of hers.

"Lisbon," he whispered. "Teresa?"

"What are you doing, Jane?"

He moved the hand to gently cup her cheek and she found herself staring deeply into his eyes. There was less sorrow than usual, more of… something else, though she couldn't quite place it.

"Jane?"

Seconds later, his lips crashed against hers, quite unexpectedly in her opinion. She knew it was wrong, that he'd, no, she'd regret it come morning, but she fought quickly to silence the rational side of her mind. Feeling the gentle pressure and the warmth of his lips against hers, she couldn't help but give into him. The kiss was more chaste than anything, almost unsure, yet still she found it was over all too soon.

Once they parted, both immediately looked to the ground, almost apologetically. Neither knew quite what to say, both still processing exactly what had happened. Lisbon, realising the keys were still in the lock, clicked the door open and quickly ushered him inside. She tried looking him in the eye, but found she just couldn't, she didn't want to see the expressions that were running through them. Not now, not yet, anyway.

"I'll, um, go get you a blanket."

He nodded and she rushed off to her bathroom as quickly as her feet could carry her. Tissues first, blanket second. Damn emotions. No, scratch that. Damn Patrick Jane. That egotistical, arrogant, tease of a man. Damn herself for allowing herself to even begin to fall for him; though she couldn't help it. It felt like he was the first man in an age who'd thought that trying to break down her barriers might just be worth it. Why did he have to be so absorbed with guilt, self-loathing and vengeance? And why did she have to be such a martyr to her work?

Once she had managed to settle Jane on the couch with as few words as possible, she kicked off her terribly practical shoes and headed to the kitchen for a glass of orange juice. The whole evening had been a waste of time. And Jane had just _kissed _her. On her front doorstep, no less. He was now sleeping, napping, thinking, lying on her couch. She shook her head. He was _drunk_, he hadn't meant it. Come tomorrow, he probably wouldn't even remember it, for a change. Drink poured, she pulled out a pen from her jacket pocket and headed towards her calendar to cross off yet another day. It was a habit she'd got into as a kid, one she had no intention of attempting to break.

As she lifted the pen to strike through the day, the date struck her.

Her mother had died exactly 25 years ago. She hadn't even _noticed_.

That would explain her team's attitudes, then. She'd have to thank them in the morning, though, there really had been no need. To be entirely honest, it would have been easier if they had acted like normal. At least then she wouldn't have been fretting about what was wrong with them. Nor would she have felt the need to take them out and ply them with alcohol. And maybe then, Patrick Jane wouldn't have kissed her and she would be able to get on with life and work as she usually did.

But it didn't explain Jane's apparently drunken actions, though. Nor did it explain why her heart was still screaming yes and her mind, no. Worst of all, she knew she'd have to address it almost immediately in the morning, instead of being able to hide in her office and work out what she was going to say first.

"Teresa?"

She took a deep breath. Why the hell hadn't she dug her feet in like she usually would? Sighing, she dragged her feet towards her living room, her couch, Patrick Jane. Lisbon couldn't be sure, but she thought that he had been sobering up as he had laid down on said piece of furniture. He hadn't drunk that much, not really. Certainly not as much as Rigsby, at any rate, so it was entirely feasible.

"Yes, Jane?"

"I'm not drunk. I meant it."

"What's that meant to mean?"

"This."

Within seconds, he was back on his feet and kissing her for a second time, with his tongue drawing tantalisingly against her lower lip. There was more passion and Jane certainly seemed more sure of himself, his surroundings, _who_ he was kissing. Fingers soon found themselves entangled in her hair as her hands slowly began to wander behind his back. He was gentle; only taking as much as she was willing to give. They parted, breathless. Lisbon found that this time, she could look him in the eye. There was sorrow there, yet no hint of regret.

"That?"

"Yes, that."

"Are you sure you want this?"

"No," he whispered. "Are you?"

"No," she replied. "Should we even try this?"

"Yes."

He was sick and tired of being sick and tired. Yes, the back of his mind was throwing up all manner of reasons for them not to go any further, but he quashed them as quickly as they sprung up. Part of him felt like he was betraying his wife; he knew that he always would. However, Jane was fairly certain that Lisbon would understand that. She had the patience to deal with him in a working and social environment. She even had her own special way of trusting him. Though she wouldn't admit it, not yet anyway, he could see it in her eyes. Those eyes that always told him exactly what he needed. They told him right now that more than anything she just wanted to be held, to feel like a woman rather than an Agent, a boss, a police officer. He still wanted Red John, of course he did. But he also wanted to know what it was like to be happy again. And for some reason, Teresa Lisbon seemed like she would be the key to that.

She just fitted… right.

end


End file.
